


The Passage of a Heart

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dealfic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It keeps circulating in my mind, even though it happened months ago. All I can think is 'he's dead... he's dead... he's really dead.' It's the same thing I thought 57 days ago and it's the same thing I'll think years from now, I'm sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Passage of a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry... but I needed the angst.  
> Beta Readers: kawaiikyo, gothic_hime  
> Song[s]: "The Lion's Roar" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra

Kyo's POV

It keeps circulating in my mind, even though it happened months ago. All I can think is 'he's dead... he's dead... he's really dead.' It's the same thing I thought 57 days ago and it's the same thing I'll think years from now, I'm sure. I can remember the way the horns sounded, the blaring clarity of something so incredibly beautiful cast out into the dreariness of a cold and grey morning. Rain fell from the sky as if someone had turned God's very faucet on over the city.

We stood in the cold for what seemed like hours but was only mere minutes as they played that song... that tribute to those who we have lost. I can still remember the tears in my eyes, feel them now as they run down my cheeks again. It aches even now as I look out over the city tonight, my hand pressed against the cold glass of the window. Unbidden, the tune comes to my lips, bubbling up in my throat as I hum it softly, the cool tracks of my tears leaving the impression of emptiness deep inside me.

But I am empty. Without him, I am just a shell of the man that I used to be. Without him, life has become bitter and pointless.

I let out a soft sigh, pushing away from the window, tossing the remnants of my cigarette down into the ashtray on the coffee table we bought. And as I head to what was once our shared bedroom, I whisper to him, the softest of goodnights.

*

The day is cold and the hint of rain is fresh upon the air, the scent of ozone heavy. Today I'm outside in it, standing beneath the barren branches of the tree that overlooks his grave. Today is the first time I've been back here, to stand over his grave and stare down at the little black words. It's meaningless, this piece of marble... and yet somehow necessary to everything. Without it, I cannot find a purpose in standing here. And without it, hundred of others cannot come and present him with the flowers that almost obscure the stone.

For the first time, a gentle smile pulls at my lips. They remember him and they honor him. This is their way, just as mine is the thought of every memory we ever shared. Those tears still find their way down my pale cheeks, but at least I don't feel like my heart is ripping itself free from my chest. At least I don't feel like I want to go home and die.

My offering, a single lotus blossom falls from my hand, floating down to rest over his name, obscuring it from view. I turn away, my hands in my pockets and my steps slow, but sure.

It's been 787 days... and today I feel like I might be able to live again.

*

There's the faint scent of peppermint in the air and the sound of children laughing fills my ears. But I pay it little mind. Instead my thoughts are focused on the past. The rain outside the window makes me think of him again: the way his smile used to brighten even the worst of days, the way his laughter would fill my every nerve ending with pleasure, and the sound of his voice in my ear sent warmth straight to my groin.

Today, there are no tears. I just sit and watch the world outside as it pays him what I think of as his tribute, humming that same tune softly under my breath. It's my tribute and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop it from at least crossing my mind.

A hand comes to rest on my shoulder and when I look away from the window, away from the rain, she's standing there in all her perfection, that knowing look in her eyes. "Talking to him again, Kyo?"

I nod, looking away again, my hand sliding down the windowpane, leaving a smudged trail of condensation behind as I move to stand up. Slipping one arm around her waist, I lead her toward the other room. "I always will."

And the look in her eyes is one of knowing and one of acceptance. I love her... but I loved him first. Nothing in the world will ever change that fact and she knows it and loves me despite it.

The older of our two children is tormenting the other, holding a peppermint stick far above the head of the youngest. "Daisuke... share," she murmurs. And for the first time in all these years, I don't feel any pain at the mention of the name.

It's been 2979 days and finally, I have moved forward.

**The End**  



End file.
